Knots
by a quarter tone apart
Summary: Gale thinks the most she's ever had to deal with is the knots in her golden hair. Still, he teaches her how to knot snares and shoot arrows and climb trees. Somehow, her fingers ended up knotted in his along the way. Catching Fire AU: Gale and Madge compete in the Third Quarter Quell
1. Part I

**Knots**

**fandom: **the hunger games  
**characters/pairings: **gale hawthorne, madge undersee, katniss everdeen, peeta mellark, haymitch abernathy, effie trinket/gale x madge, gale x katniss, peeta x katniss, haymitch x maysilee (implied)  
**setting: **catching fire (au)  
**description: **he thinks the most she's ever had to deal with is the knots in her golden hair. still, he teaches her how to knot snares and shoot arrows and climb trees. somehow her fingers ended up knotted in his along the way.  
**summary: **snow's rule change extends the age bracket of eligible candidates for reaping to anyone above the age of twelve. madge volunteers for her mother, and gale's name is pulled out of the reaping bowl. chaos, tragedy, love ensues.  
**a/n: **apologies if the timeline or any other details seem a little screwy. but it is au, so i'm just exercising my authority to have minimal regard for canon :-)  
the name 'marigold undersee née donner' is taken from **medea smyke**. i just can't imagine mrs. undersee being called anything else after reading her _fantastic_ gale x madge fics, which i strongly recommend you check out!

* * *

There's a collective intake of breath throughout the country as Snow announces the much anticipated twist for the third Quarter Quell. Kids look nervously to their parents. Wide-eyed and innocent. _What does this mean?_

It means that you might have to suffer through watching your father battle to the death instead of the other way around.

It means that your pregnant mother's name has been put in the reaping bowl.

It means that your grandparents, with their brittle bones and arthritic hands and weary smiles could be going to the Games.

It means that if the odds aren't in your favour, you might be an orphan by the time these Games are through.

* * *

Madge Undersee is terrified.

Her father sent her to bed an hour ago, but it'd be a cold day in hell when she could possibly sleep at a time like this. She hates Romulus Thread. Hates his ruddy face and leering grin. Yellow teeth and bloodshot eyes. Hates his hands, hands capable of inflicting such terror within the district she now hates to call home.

Romulus Thread is in her house. Downstairs, exchanging words with her father that had once been quiet but were now angered, yelling blows. Madge momentarily finds herself wishing she could be like her mother, in a morphling-induced, worriless sleep.

"Your so-called peacekeepers are doing _nothing_ for this district, Thread!"

"Watch your tone, Undersee. It's about time you Twelve scum learnt your place in Panem. Snow's not happy with the leniency you've been so freely exercising over the last year."

"Building the gallows will only rile them up more. If the President's worried, he should be taking that matter up with me, not punishing the entire district."

Thread laughs. Derisive and mocking, like fingernails down a chalkboard or the sound a cat makes when its tail is stepped on. Shudders cascade down Madge's spine, and she clutches the railing of the stairs where she's lingering.

"The President's got more important things to worry about_, Mayor_. But if you so desire, I'll make sure he's brought up to speed on your interest in the wellbeing of Panem."

There's a pregnant pause, and Madge wishes she could see their expressions. She knows things have changed around Twelve, but if her father is trying to oppose them, they're obviously far worse than she initially thought.

"I think it's time for you to leave." Her father's words are clipped and cautious. As she hears footsteps, Madge stands abruptly and scuttles up the stairs back to her bedroom; trying to make sense of what she's just heard.

* * *

Gale Hawthorne is sleepless.

Sleeping has become difficult ever since the whipping. He'd spent the past eighteen years of his life sleeping on his back, and old habits certainly die hard. But comfort is only a smidgen of the reason as to why he can't succumb to a peaceful slumber.

Because there _is _no peace.

Because every time he closes his eyes, he sees the unmistakable smirk of Romulus Thread. Elated at the opportunity to hurt, to torture, to kill. As much as he hadn't been conscious at the time, Katniss tells him he'd been pushed to the brink of death.

Gale thinks maybe death would be kinder than the sheering agony that shoots through his back every time he twists the wrong way. Weeks later, the pain has only fractionally subsided. And the scars aren't showing any promise of fading.

Mrs. Everdeen says it's because they haven't had time to heal properly. To hell with that. Gale has a family to feed. A job to attend to. As physically demanding as mining is, the feeling of an empty stomach is worse than a few scratches on his back.

So he tosses. And he turns. And he pretends to not dread going to work every day. And he pretends to not worry about the Reaping, drawing nearer and nearer. And he pretends that he's okay with Katniss being so far away from him, living next door to the Mellark boy.

He's not sure what's worse, the insomnia or the nightmares.

* * *

Her ruffled, white dress doesn't look quite the same without the shining gold Mockingjay pinned to the front. Somehow Madge knows that the pin belongs to Katniss more than it was ever hers. Regardless, Madge doesn't want it back. Doesn't _need_ it back.

Besides, this is her mother's first attendance at a Reaping in about five years, and Madge has a feeling that it's probably better if she doesn't look like Maysilee's ghost today.

Especially with it being the Quarter Quell, and all.

She twists her light blonde hair into a plait parted to one side and doesn't reply when her father tells her that she looks nice.

It's a strange feeling, knowing that his name is in the Reaping bowl as well.

* * *

It's not until he buttons the front of his charcoal grey shirt that it dawns on Gale. He was meant to have already suffered through his last reaping, but now there are three Hawthornes with their names in the bowl. Rory's wearing one of Gale's old shirts, and the sleeves are still a little long for him so Hazelle rolls them up.

"Mom-"Gale begins, breaking off suddenly before he says something stupid. Something like 'please don't get reaped.' Something like 'I can't volunteer for you.'

His mother smiles. A tired, yet vaguely omniscient smile. She looks pretty, with her hair pulled back into a bun and her dress void of stains and wrinkles.

So Gale tells her that, instead of saying anything else. He claps Rory on the shoulder in a fatherly way and tickles Posy's hand until she breaks out in giggles.

He wonders what Katniss is saying to Prim and her mother right now.

* * *

When her father reads the names of Twelve's past victors, Madge expects Haymitch Abernathy to drunkenly stumble on stage like he always does. She's never viewed him as a spectacle or a sorry old drunk like others do. Even if Haymitch does never look her in the eye- or, in the off chance that he does, takes a hasty sip from a silver flask afterwards.

This year, he's sober. And he's not alone in receiving the sceptical applause from the district. Katniss and Peeta have joined hands, two rings noticeable as they wave out to the audience.

Madge wishes she could be holding her mother's hand as Effie Trinket approaches the podium, comically fuchsia lips and whimsical Capitol accent. Reassuring her in gentle whispers that _it's alright, it's all going to be over soon_.

Sometimes Madge feels like the caretaker in their relationship.

At the words 'third Quarter Quell', she glances in her mother's direction. Madge is having difficulty remembering to be fearful for herself. All she can think about is the growing uneasiness in her mother's countenance, the way her father is nervously tapping his foot.

And then Effie Trinket's hand descends into the first bowl.

* * *

Gale tries not to look visibly sickened by Katniss and Peeta walking on stage.

Tries to at least _pretend_ to pay attention when Mayor Undersee reads the Treaty of Treason.

Tries not to look in his mother's direction when Effie Trinket prepares herself to read the name of the female tribute.

"Marigold Undersee!"

Relief washes over him before he recognises the name. He might feel the slightest _hint_ of guilt when he glances up to the stage and sees the look of horror on Mayor Undersee's face.

"I volunteer."

Heads turn in the search of the origin of the voice, Gale's included. Madge Undersee steps out of the crowd, fists clenched by her side. Gale recognises her dress. For a moment he thinks her eyes, blue and blazing might have landed on him, but then she's looking back to the stage.

"I volunteer as tribute." Her voice trembles slightly, but Gale can tell she's doing her best to remain composed. He cranes his head in search of Madge's mother.

Marigold Undersee has collapsed.

* * *

It was so instantaneous for Madge. It seemed like the most logical thing to do. And now, as she steps onto the stage and locks eyes with her father, she's suddenly aware of her beating heart and trembling hands. She's aware that it wasn't bad odds that made Effie Trinket pull her mother's name out of the bowl.

"And what's your name, dear?" Effie asks exuberantly. Madge bites her tongue, forcing herself to step up to the microphone.

"Madge Undersee." As Effie remarks about how brave she is to volunteer for her mother, Madge's eyes land on Romulus Thread, smirking triumphantly in her direction.

For a moment she thinks she's going to be sick, but instead she repeats a mantra over and over again in her head.

_Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry._

Katniss looks at her with an expression of grim understanding. Peeta's is pitying. Their hands are clenched so tightly that their knuckles are white, and Madge finds herself wishing that someone could hold her. Shake her awake from what must certainly be a nightmare.

Haymitch looks like he could use a drink now more than ever. Madge tears her gaze away from him, instead choosing to focus on her shoes. _Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry._

She's so busy focusing on keeping the tears at bay that she only looks up when Gale Hawthorne's name is pulled out of the bowl.

* * *

When an animal is aware that it's being hunted, that it's almost certainly soon to meet its death, it freezes. Numb and stupid and gives itself up to be caught.

Gale feels like that right now. He feels himself being ushered up to the stage, and he locks eyes with Katniss, who has dropped Peeta's hand and looks like she's about to throw something.

Effie Trinket asks for volunteers. Gale looks out to the crowd and locks his eyes with his kid brother. Shakes his head firmly. Gale is meant to look out for Rory, and not the other way around.

His mother is covering her mouth with a shaking hand.

The last time Gale saw her do that was when they received the news that his father was dead.

Mayor Undersee stands, motioning for the two tributes to shake hands. Gale's strong, callused fingers engulf Madge's, elegant and dainty.

Katniss told him Madge played the piano, once.

Piano playing won't help her in the arena.

* * *

Madge thinks she'll only get one visitor: her father.

Because her mother is still unconscious and she'll be seeing Katniss and Peeta on the train and, well, she doesn't really have anyone else.

"My brave girl." he mutters, wrapping his daughter in his arms. "My poor, brave girl. I'm sorry. This is all my fault, I'm so sorry."

Madge hadn't cried up until this point. Stifling her own sobs seems futile. So she cries into the front of his shirt until the Peacekeepers drag him away.

The door opens, and Hazelle Hawthorne steps inside. Her soft grey eyes are slightly watery, undoubtedly from having just seen her son.

"Oh, Madge." she murmurs in a comforting, melancholy voice. She takes Madge's hand. "I'm so sorry this is happening to you."

Madge tries to find it within herself to say something, but she can't. She doesn't pull her hand away, though. Hazelle's hands are warm and consoling. A mother's touch.

"I never did get the chance to thank you. That night, in the winter. When you…when you gave us the medicine for Gale." Hazelle swallows, and smiles kind-heartedly. "I hope you know I didn't forget that. Won't ever forget that. You're a brave girl Madge. You promise me you'll take care of yourself."

Madge nods her head slowly. Hazelle is gone as quickly as she came, leaving Madge to try and make sense of her words.

* * *

"Gale!" Posy hurtles inside, attacking him with her chubby arms. He swallows the lump in his throat, wishing he hadn't seen the tear tracks on his sister's face. Nine-year-old Vick is next, muttering incoherent words that Gale understands and doesn't understand at the same time.

He knows how excruciating it is to watch someone you love in the Games. He wishes they didn't have to go through this. Again.

His mother's hand is on the side of his face, and he leans into her tight embrace. Gale buries himself into her shoulder, leaning over to bring himself down to her height. "This wasn't supposed to happen, Mom." he chokes out, finding each breath more and more difficult by the second.

"I know." Hazelle says softly. "I know. But I need you to be strong, okay? I know you can. For them, and for me."

Gale nods slowly, and letting go of her is possibly one of the most difficult things he's done in his life.

Rory approaches him, and Gale rests his hands on his shoulders. "Hey, you listen to me now. You're the man of the house while I- while I'm away." Gale swallows, and looks his brother in the eye. "You take care of them. You remember what I taught you, okay?" he says firmly.

Rory nods comprehensively, and pulls his brother into a hug. "Just come home." he mutters under his breath.

Gale doesn't want to make any promises he can't keep.

As the Peacekeepers wrench the door open, signalling their time is up, Gale wonders what their parting words will be.

"Gale!" his mother says urgently. "I need you to look out for Madge for me. Promise me that."

He blinks, taken aback. "What?" The disbelief must be evident on his face.

"Just do it, Gale. I love you. We love you." His family's chorus of voices disappears all too suddenly as the door is slammed shut.

* * *

**TBC**


	2. Part II

**Knots** (Part II)

**a/n: **thanks to the lovely reviewers! you've inspired me to keep this going so i'll continue updating whenever possible. i don't really have the trajectory of the plot mapped out yet but hopefully it'll just come together. also, to the anon: yes, that was my post! figured i may as well give it a shot.

* * *

The car ride to the train station is uncomfortable.

Uncomfortable because Effie Trinket always uses unnecessarily flamboyant gestures when she talks, and she's nudged Madge in the ribs for the sixth time now.

Uncomfortable because Madge notices that Gale hasn't cried _at all_ and it makes her feel childish.

Uncomfortable because instead of looking out the window like he is, she keeps darting glances in his direction. Trying to read the conviction in his expression. It's not determination, Madge decides. More like a resigned acceptance of his situation.

Madge, on the other hand, doesn't fully grasp the scope of her actions until the train station is in sight and she's following Effie Trinket to their carriage.

She's too distracted by their greeting party to fully appreciate the luxurious interiors- rich, velvety carpets; mahogany furniture; golden chandeliers.

Katniss immediately leaps up and locks her arms around Gale in a tight embrace, the sort of intimacy that can't be fabricated.

Then again, Madge thinks to herself, she seemed to have done an alright job fabricating it with Peeta.

Strangled whispers of apologies are exchanged between them. Peeta pushes himself up from the couch- by the looks of it; he'll never quite be acquainted with his fake leg- and looks at Madge with a sympathetic, yet oddly pained expression.

Haymitch enters, and clears his throat. Reeking of alcohol and authority. "That's enough cousinly affection from you two." he warns, not bothering to disguise his reminder.

He looks at Madge for a fleeting moment, and then shakes his head and leaves, quick as he came.

Madge bites her lip to keep from disintegrating on the spot. She looks out the window just as the train steadily begins to roll forward.

She wonders what would be worse, jumping out of the train and braving the wilderness or competing in the Quarter Quell.

* * *

Katniss tells him that it's her fault. And even if he doesn't voice it aloud, it's instinctive for Gale to shoulder _some _of the blame, if not most of it.

Maybe if he hadn't kissed her- maybe if he'd kissed her _sooner_-

But he tells himself not to think things like that, because she's here with Peeta and he can tell it's getting difficult for her.

Difficult to pretend that she's pretending with Peeta.

So after Haymitch's outburst, Gale excuses himself to his room- an unfamiliar phrase, his _own _room, and he does something else.

He thinks about Madge Undersee.

Or rather, he thinks about things that make him think of Madge. White dresses with ruffled collars, the hem edged with the slightest hint of coal dust. Blonde hair not like the soft, fair tone of Prim and Mrs. Everdeen's, but golden like the Mockingjay pin that had once gleamed on her chest. Elegant, effeminate hands with a rhythmic touch.

But that was the Madge Undersee he used to sell strawberries to. Not the same girl who stands with impeccable posture and clenched hands and volunteers to compete in the Games. The one who he's promised to 'look out for'.

Maybe his mother just doesn't want the district to suffer any more then they have to, Gale contemplates. Or maybe she thinks the Capitol might still see some appeal in the 'star-crossed lovers' façade.

Like hell he'd be able to persuade anyone he was in love with Madge Undersee. The idea is laughable. Because Madge is…

She's from town, Gale tells himself.

Like that's a good enough reason.

* * *

Madge sits with Katniss and Peeta until the silence becomes more excruciating than solitude.

Except when she goes to her room, she realises that maybe she didn't mind their company. That maybe after spending the majority of her life so completely and utterly _alone_, isolation isn't really how she wants to spend her last-

She isn't quite ready to accept death. Not just yet.

Instead, she retreats to the shower, cleansing herself of any hint of coal dust. The water heats instantaneously. Steam disperses throughout the bathroom.

When she looks in the mirror, she can't even see her own reflection- but that's okay, because she wants to pretend that the redness and circles are gone from her eyes.

Madge nearly chokes on her own breath when she folds up her Reaping dress, realising that she's never going to wear it again. And sure, she's only seventeen and she only had one year left anyway, but there are a lot of things that she might never do again. Might never do at _all_.

There's a knock at her door, and she's shaken from her own thoughts.

She assumes it's Katniss, maybe- the two haven't really had the chance to talk what with the current position Katniss was in. Or Effie calling her to dinner.

She doesn't assume that it's Gale; a decent explanation for the surprise on her face when she opens the door.

"Hey." she says slowly, cautious like talking with him is equitable to walking through a minefield. A beat. Madge opens the door wider. "You can come in, if you want."

Gale would have been perfectly content lingering in the hallway if she hadn't turned around and walked back into her room, expecting him to step inside.

He's not sure whether he resents her for it, or if he's glad she didn't give him a choice.

"Some train." Gale mutters, and Madge almost laughs at his lack of tact.

Almost.

"Yeah, I guess Katniss wasn't exaggerating. When she told me- us about it, I mean." Madge sighs.

Gale's throat suddenly feels parched, and he searches himself for what he wants to say. "Your mother must have been…" his voice trails off as he searches for the right word to say, then skips that part of the sentence entirely. "When she came to see you, I mean."

"She didn't." Madge says blankly.

"Oh."

Sinking down onto her bed, Madge sucks in her cheeks and looks at Gale contemplatively. "Gale?" she asks hesitantly. He turns his head to acknowledge her.

"If you don't mind me asking, why are you here?"

If Gale is surprised at the abruptness of her question, he doesn't let it show. He racks his mind for a reason.

"Just…looking out for you, I guess."

Before Madge can even make sense of his words, there's another knock at her door; but this time it's more of a bang. Shortly followed by the unmistakable growl of Haymitch Abernathy.

"When you two lovebirds are done reminiscing about strawberry season, feel free to join us for dinner."

Gale's eyebrows furrow, and Madge's cheeks flush a faint pink.

"Why would he-"

"I don't know." Gale cuts her off quickly. "We should probably go, though." he mutters.

* * *

Dinner is silent, except for an occasional interjection from Effie. Gale doesn't mind. He's not a huge fan of talking with his mouth full, and the spread of food on the table is keeping him busy enough.

Seemingly immersed in a pork chop, he tries to assess the disposition of the table. He's seated next to Madge, who's barely picking at her food. Probably because she's grown up around this kind of treatment her entire life, Gale thinks bitterly.

Katniss is across from him. Gale can sense her conflicted, pitying expressions. She always had a thing for men on the brink of death. The living, breathing example of that is sitting right next to her. Gale wants to look at Peeta and feel hatred, feel his stomach clench with abhorrence, but it doesn't happen. Instead, all he can see is the way Peeta cuts a piece of bread and slides it onto Katniss' plate. Passes her a napkin before she has the chance to ask for one.

They _fit _together, and it makes Gale want to jab his fork into his hand.

His attempt to excuse himself to bed doesn't go unnoticed; Haymitch herds them all in front of a television to watch a recap of the Reapings.

There's a volunteer from District One- a boy the same age as Gale, undoubtedly vying for one last chance to be a victor.

In District Five, a women in her early fifties is Reaped. The escort has to help her on stage.

But it's District Eight that haunts Gale the most. A women's name is called, and the crowd immediately breaks out in murmurs as she approaches the stage. Her stomach is slightly curved.

She's pregnant.

There's a sharp intake of breath next to him, and Gale tears his eyes away from the screen to look at Madge. Her eyes, innocent and blue, are widened, horrified.

Gale momentarily visualises his mother approaching the stage, and finds himself seething that no one has volunteered for her.

"That's barbaric." Peeta breaks the tense silence, speaking the words on everyone's minds.

"That's the Games, boy!" Haymitch barks.

When the male's name is called, there's an immediate cry of a volunteer from the crowd. The camera pans to show the female tribute's face, crumpled into tears. Gale doesn't understand until he joins her on stage, clasping her hand tightly.

"No." Katniss mutters under her breath.

"They're both wearing rings." Madge echoes in an equally disapproving tone, her voice barely above a whisper.

Watching the married couple, Gale has never detested the Capitol more. Disgusted, he stands from the leather couch and leaves the room without another word.

He'd had enough for the night, but the second he steps inside his room he hears footsteps behind him.

"Gale." Katniss murmurs, hesitating in the doorway and Gale has a sense of déjà vu for how he lingered in Madge Undersee's doorway just an hour or so earlier.

"Catnip." he replies in a hoarse voice, the endearing nickname foreign on his lips.

"Haymitch says Snow's going to be keeping a close eye on us. All of us." she emphasises. "Peeta…Peeta's going to be your mentor."

Gale lets out a mirthless laugh. "Excellent. Any other good news in case this day just hasn't had enough?"

For a moment Katniss looks hurt, but she collects herself quickly. "He's going to help you. Try to, anyway, if you let him."

"Yeah, I'm sure he's over the moon about it."

Gale doesn't look up from the ground until he's certain she's left the room. He's okay with her feeling angry with him.

That way she won't have to feel guilty when he's gone.

* * *

Madge is restless.

Each time her eyes shut, she envisions the sorrowful expression on Haymitch Abernathy's face every time he looks at her. Regret laced with guilt laced with remorse.

She's only seen photos of her late Aunt Maysilee, but enough to know that the resemblance is certainly there. It's almost like knowing Haymitch is dreading her inevitable death.

The fact that her mentor has already given up on her isn't at all reassuring.

Madge hasn't properly spoken to Katniss yet, and she thinks she can ascertain why. Because even if she does have Peeta, she needs Gale, and Madge will just be collateral damage in the long run.

Sleep continues to evade her, until finally she sits up in bed and decides to take a walk.

She ends up in the common area, staring out the window at the darkened landscapes passing by before her eyes.

Madge is only partially surprised when she hears footsteps behind her, and it's Gale's towering frame she sees hovering in the entryway.

"I always hoped I'd be getting out of Twelve one day. Guess I should be careful what I wish for." Madge quips sentimentally. "Can't sleep either?"

"What do you think?" he replies darkly, but with an exasperated sigh that softens the blow.

A sardonic chuckle escapes her lips. "Maybe it's just the train."

Or maybe not.

Gale slides into a chair across from her, following her gaze out the window before she speaks.

"Since when am I someone you need to look out for?"

He shrugs dismissively. "Maybe since you were my district partner."

Or maybe not.

Madge raises a knowing eyebrow, pressing him for more. "Your mother came to see me. Before we left."

"Oh?" Gale struggles to feign a lack of interest. "I didn't know you knew each other."

"We don't."

"I feel like we're going in circles here, Undersee." A ghost of a smile edges its way onto Gale's lips, before he catches himself and regains his stony expression.

"I kind of feel like that all the time." Madge mutters.

For someone who's so accustomed to being alone, it doesn't take Madge long to realise that she likes his presence. Even if they're just sitting there, in silence.

Both too stubborn to say what's on their minds.

* * *

Gale's not entirely sure how much time has passed when he jerks awake. It's still the middle of the night from what he can tell. Madge is dozing across from him, her golden hair just visible in the dark.

He slumps out of his uncomfortable position, standing up and turning to walk back to his room when he hesitates, looking back at Madge.

Should he wake her?

Considering how difficult it was for both of them to get to sleep the first time, _that _would just be inconsiderate.

_Since when have you been so polite?_ Gale thinks to himself, but he hastily suppresses the thought.

No point leaving her there. Even if she does look kind of peaceful when she's sleeping…

Gale curses himself under his breath, and walks forward, easily lifting a still sleeping Madge into his arms. She's as light as she looks. Despite the fact that she lacks the emaciated frame of kids from the Seam, Madge is still slender in build. Quietly padding through the train, he uses his back to open the door to her room where he gently places her on the bed.

For a moment he's tempted to do something stupid, like cover her with a blanket or sweep the sole strand of hair that's fallen into her face behind her ear.

Then he decides that he's had enough stupidity for one day. So he thinks better of the situation and brushes out the door.

* * *

**TBC**


	3. Part III

**Knots **(Part III)

**a/n: **again thank you to those of you who have taken the time to review! i never thought this story would have any response at all, so i'm very flattered. i'll do my best to take into consideration any feedback/suggestions you leave, so by all means feel free :-)

* * *

Her sheets are tangled between her legs and she can feel her nightclothes clinging to her with just the slightest hint of sweat, but Madge isn't sure as to whether she had nightmares or not. The moment Effie Trinket's vibrant voice echoes throughout the carriage, her eyes snap open and she forgets any notion of dreams instantaneously. For a moment she wishes she could succumb to lethargy; but Madge quickly realises that there are worse things to wake up to in the morning.

Like fire. Or the bang of a cannon. Or the haughty laughter of a Career. Or Claudius Templesmith's voice announcing all of the above and more.

She's aware of a stiffness shooting up the side of her neck, and Madge rubs it tentatively before freezing as she remembers where she fell asleep last night.

She's not quite sure what to make of the fact that Gale's obviously responsible for putting her to bed.

In fact, if it weren't for the soreness of sleeping in a chair, she probably would have thought it was a dream.

* * *

Gale's an early riser, but he's never experienced the comfort of the soft mattress two or three times the size of his cot at home.

He hates himself for enjoying it, though.

So he slides out of his bed as the sun is rising outside of his window and spends the rest of the morning sprawled on the floor, thinking about how he never got around to teaching Rory how to wrestle (like he'd promised him) or fixing the leak in their roof (like he'd promised his mother) or punching the lights out of the first guy who dared to look at Posy (like he'd promised himself).

Haymitch barks commands like a drill sergeant around the breakfast table, but Gale's too tired and Katniss is too worried and Peeta is too uncomfortable and it's obvious to everyone except Effie that no one's really listening.

He finds himself staring at Madge's hair, loosely curling past her shoulders as she miserably feigns interest in what Haymitch has to say. Gale wonders whether it's made of real gold.

And then he wonders how many coins each strand would be worth if it were, and if her entire head could feed a family of five for a year or two.

"…and you're seeing your stylists first up, and I don't want to hear a single complaint about what they have in store for you. _Got it_?" Haymitch emphasises his point by slamming his fist on the smooth, wooden table top. Madge jumps. Gale is suddenly jolted from his stupor.

"Really, Haymitch, that is _mahogany._" Effie scolds, but Haymitch doesn't dignify her comment with a response as he leaves the room.

Realising he's probably gone in search of a morning drink, Effie mutters disapproving words under her breath and scuttles after him.

"He really likes to lay the pressure on thick, doesn't he?" Madge mutters.

A ghost of a grin eases its way on to Peeta's face. "Well, if you put enough pressure on coal, it turns into pearls."

Katniss' attempts to stifle her laughter are futile, and Gale looks at both of them incredulously. Peeta doesn't care to explain the joke. In fact, his gaze isn't once shifted from looking at Katniss.

The familiar feeling of jealousy churns in Gale's stomach. "Glad to see this is all so funny for you." he utters testily.

The sting of his comment cuts through the once light-hearted atmosphere of the table like a knife. Katniss opens her mouth to say something, then clamps it shut as though her voice has failed her.

_Not very Katniss-like_, Gale thinks to himself.

He's tempted to say so until Madge breaks the silence.

"The fruit from back home tastes better." she says absentmindedly, a strawberry balanced between two fingers before she takes a bite. Madge looks up at all of them. "Don't you agree?"

Peeta mumbles something about being in a similar predicament with the bread. Katniss looks from the strawberry in Madge's hand to Gale.

Gale chuckles sardonically. "Yeah, well." he pushes his chair back from the table and stands to leave. "Nothing tastes better than food caught with your own hands. Right, Catnip?"

He walks away quickly, because he doesn't think he could stand to see her expression.

* * *

Madge is aware that her comment didn't exactly have the desired effect.

What that intended effect was, she's not entirely certain. Easing the tension between the four teenage passengers on the train seemed to be more difficult than…than…

_Winning the Hunger Games_, Madge thinks to herself bitterly. The irony is laughable.

With only three of them left at the table now, Madge can't help but to notice a pattern emerging.

"You'll get to meet Cinna soon." Katniss says in a low voice, speaking to no one in particular. Regardless, Madge knows the comment is directed at her. "You'll like him."

If it weren't for the lack of enthusiasm in her tone, Madge might have thought Katniss was trying to give her something to look forward to.

For perhaps the first and only time, Madge finds herself appreciating Effie's presence when she bursts back into the room.

"Only minutes before we arrive now. Madge, Gal-" Effie pauses, looking around upon noticing Gale's absence. "Oh, where on earth has he gone now? You'd think you're all _trying_ to make this difficult for me."

"We wouldn't dare, Effie." Madge mutters. Only Peeta manages to crack a smile.

Effie manages to drag a surly looking Gale from his solitude, and directs the four of them to the window. "No, no." she sighs exasperatedly. With a sky-blue taloned hand, she pushes Katniss closer to Peeta and motions for Madge to stand next to her, with Gale by her side. "There. Now. Big smiles! You've got a lot of competition this year, and first impressions most certainly do count. Fortunately last year's hype doesn't seem to have died down…"

Madge tunes her out as she gazes out the window, only partially interested in the view. The wilderness is slowly becoming interspersed with majestic Capitol architecture. Houses that make the Justice Building back home in Twelve look like a shack.

The prominent part of her is more aware that her shoulder is pressed up to Gale's, and he hasn't made a move to step away. Probably because Effie would lose her head entirely at her expert formation being disrupted, Madge reminds herself.

Still. She can feel his closeness, smell it on him. Firewood and musk and something- well- _manly _that Madge is unaccustomed to being around.

She nudges him gently in the ribs. "Ready to sell your soul?"

A sigh escapes Gale's lips. His reply is hardly audible, but as he raises his hand to wave at the crowd of faces- gaudy, lurid, _inhuman_ faces- Madge can just hear him.

Or maybe it's just what she expects him to say.

_No_.

* * *

Flash bulbs.

Voices.

A _lot _of voices.

"_What's it like being in the Capitol?"_

"_Are you going to win just like your cousin did, Gale?"_

"_Give us a smile! Look this way please, Mr. Hawthorne."_

Gale hates all of them, and he has no intentions of making the Capitol audiences fall in love with his charisma and charm.

Mainly because he's severely lacking in both.

Despite the morning's hot shower, he already feels filthy from waving out the window to all of the Capitol spectators, spurring on their delight at seeing their potential champions.

So as he walks through Capitol train station, even if he's completely oblivious as to where he's going, he stands apart from the others- particularly Effie- because he doesn't want to get lumped in with the dream team.

Fortunately Katniss and Peeta are attracting the clear majority of the attention, receiving frenzied questions about their wedding plans and how it _feels_ to be back in the Capitol.

He finds himself glancing back to see how Madge is holding up in spite of himself. She'd given an interview last year during the 74th games when they'd wanted to hear from Katniss and Peeta's friends.

Unsurprisingly, Gale had been quick to refuse.

Madge's lips, a soft pale pink are curled into a hint of an innocent smile. For a moment Gale thinks she's batting her eyelashes, but he realises she's just reacting to the flash of the cameras.

He also realises that maybe he wants to see the worst in Madge Undersee, just so he can prove he was right to spend the past few years thinking she was just another soft kid from the town. But despite the smile, her eyes are glazed with disapproval and her fists are clenched in the same way they were back in Twelve when she'd volunteered.

Not every town kid would volunteer, Gale reminds himself. Not even for their ailing mothers.

When they finally reach their destination- the Training Centre is practically a sanctuary without any prying reporters or intrusive cameramen- Gale nudges her in the ribs in a manner not unlike the way she elbowed him while they were looking out the window on the train.

"Anyone would have thought you were in your element, Undersee." he mutters mockingly.

"Then I must be better at pretending than I thought." she replies in a cool tone, and Gale might have chuckled if Haymitch hadn't interjected.

"Shut it, you two. Your prep teams are waiting."

When Gale wishes her good luck- even if she is only facing the wrath of a few power-crazed stylists- he genuinely means it.

* * *

Her father has an aversion to affection in general- exceptions made only in matters of dire circumstances, like, say, bidding his daughter farewell before she competes in the Games- and her mother spends the majority of her time bedridden, so Madge isn't all that accustomed to being doted on.

But her prep team fawns over her, commenting on her golden hair and fair complexion and ocean blue eyes.

It's funny, Madge thinks to herself as they scrub and scour her body vigorously, because she's always viewed her appearance as a liability. Like a neon sign constantly flashing above her head.

_Mayor's daughter. Spoilt brat. Do not approach. _

It doesn't surprise her, that Capitolians seem to love what her district hates.

* * *

Gale grits his teeth as his prep team raves about his 'excellent bone structure' and 'chiselled features'.

In fact, he does his best to block out everything they're saying. Because he can only handle so much ridiculousness in a day and by principle, an hour listening Effie Trinket easily fulfils that quota.

He waits for them to comment on the scar tissue on his back, but it doesn't come. Instead, they move on to the other tributes.

"Twelve certainly lucked out this year; two kids will be easy compared to what the other districts have to deal with."

"I know! Can you imagine being stuck with the old bird from Five? What a nightmare."

Their words should be trivial. Meaningless, to Gale, who holds little regard for the opinions- and rules- enforced by the Capitol in any case.

But he feels so damn disappointed he's pleasing them without even trying.

* * *

"Two volunteers in two years. You're making my job too easy for me." Cinna muses with a soft smile.

"What makes you say that?"

Madge finds it impossible not to trust Cinna. She tells herself that's a good thing, because right now she's completely in the dark as to who she can trust.

"It's my job to help you make an impression. Set you apart from all the others." Cinna reaches out, his fingers gently tilting Madge's chin upwards as he drinks her appearance in with kind brown eyes.

It's such a different sensation to being close to manhandled by her prep team.

"But you seem to be doing an adequate job of that on your own."

Madge swallows. She'd never viewed being a volunteer as an advantage.

More of a suicide mission.

But she doesn't tell Cinna that, because for some reason even if he's only just laid eyes on her for the first time, he has some sort of faith in her that gives Madge hope.

* * *

Gale feels different. His face is clean shaven. Hair trimmed to a neat length. Nails clean and skin smooth.

The change must be drastic. Because when he steps into the Penthouse, Katniss looks him like she's seen a ghost.

Only it doesn't take him long to realise that he's not the reason.

And it seems fitting that Gale can't find the words to speak when she tells him that Darius is an Avox.

Because if he could, well, it'd just be wrong to say them, wouldn't it?

And even though Katniss is sitting next to him and she's taken his hand in hers, all she's doing is reminding Gale that the last time she held his hand, he'd been whipped within an inch of his life and Darius had attempted to intervene.

In a cruel twist of fate that simply salts Gale's wounds, turkey is served for lunch.

* * *

By the time she's done being preened, Madge has missed lunch. When she enters the Penthouse, despite the fact that six people are living there, it's silent.

And she thinks maybe the morning's tension is still unresolved until Peeta tells her about Darius quietly. He expects her to nod sympathetically and accept the unfortunate truth, but she doesn't.

Her skin drains of colour, her face a stark white as she excuses herself hastily to her room.

Madge thinks maybe that if her stomach wasn't so empty, she would have thrown up.

Peeta- good-natured, kind-hearted Peeta, knocks on her door. Her eyes sting with the onset of tears that she determinedly keeps at bay, and words are tumbling out before she can stop herself.

She tells him that she witnessed the beginning of Gale's whipping.

Tells him that she ran for the nearest person she could trust, and that just happened to be Darius because he was one of the few Peacekeepers her father didn't mind having around.

Tells him that she begged him to put a stop to what she'd been certain was going to be a public execution.

Tells him that the last time she saw him, he was unconscious at Thread's feet, and her father was dragging her home.

And last of all, she tells Peeta _not to tell Gale_. Or Katniss. Or anyone.

And her hands are trembling, so Peeta sits on the floor beside her and the roles are switched. He tells her about the perfect recipe for chocolate chip cookies, and she listens until the trembling subsides.

* * *

Haymitch is furious.

At all four of them.

Because 'now is not the time to act like a bunch of homesick kids'. And because 'you _know_ they have ears everywhere'.

And they stand there and take their reprimanding silently until Effie peaks her head in and says it's time to prepare for the chariot rides.

* * *

**TBC**


	4. Part IV

**Knots** (Part IV)

**a/n: **reviewers, your words are far too kind, but you're certainly keeping me motivated. many thanks! apologies for not getting this posted yesterday. finished it late and i was unhappy with the end result so i decided not to upload it until i did some extreme editing whilst a little more conscious. unfortunately: uploading this whilst at school, so this has not been proofread. proceed with caution. p.s. current gale x madge song: wonderwall by ryan adams.

* * *

Madge is glad that no one's said anything about setting her on fire, because in all honesty, she feels like she's drowning. Suffocating, maybe.

But fire can't survive without water _or _air, so either way she'd end up extinguished.

Lifeless.

How fitting.

She sits idly still as her prep team sweeps makeup onto her face with extravagant strokes. Eyes dramatically outlined in black. Lips redder than the strawberries she'd been eating that morning. Redder than blood.

Katniss lingers a few metres from where she's sitting, spectating the transformation. From what Madge can gather, one of her mentors can't stand to look at her and another is conflicted over whether she wants her to live or not.

And Peeta's off with Gale, so Madge kind of feels like she has no one.

The makeup is thick and heavy on her face, like a mask. She and Katniss are characteristically silent as they wait for Cinna to enter, and dictate what should be done with her hair.

"You looked a little shaken up before." Katniss says suddenly, and whether it's out of concern or an attempt to fill the all too obvious void of speech, Madge isn't entirely certain. "Are you alright?"

Maybe taken out of context, Madge would take a leaf out of Katniss' sarcastic book and shoot back a nice, snarky, _what do you think_? And then Katniss would crack a half smile at the absurdity of her question and Madge would laugh and they'd be reminded of why they enjoyed spending time with one other.

But they're right, smack bang in the middle of context, so Madge simply shrugs, shifting in her seat. "Just a bit overwhelmed, I guess." Katniss nods, accepting Madge's euphemism for 'on the verge of a breakdown.'

They never really used to talk about their feelings much back in Twelve either, so at least that hasn't changed. Despite the fact that everything else has.

* * *

Gale contemplates refusing to being prepped by a team of, what looks to him to be, lunatics.

When he's handed what looks like two useless pieces of tinted plastic to put in his eyes, Gale simply stares back dumbfounded and refuses to take them out of the lilac-hued palm of the stylist's hand.

It's a short-lived victory. Despite the fact that he and Peeta have some sort of unspoken agreement that neither of them will speak to each other for the time being, Haymitch apparently didn't get the memo.

He descends on Gale in a relentless rage, and Gale sullenly agreeing to take the circular pieces of curved plastic doesn't make him stop yelling.

"You want to act like an insolent, sulky child, that's _fine_ by me. But you won't be doing your family any favours by forcing them to watch you crash and burn on live television." Haymitch snarls.

Seething, furious, unspoken words fly through Gale's mind. How _dare _he bring up his family? How _dare_ he suggest that Gale's given up on something he didn't even sign up for in the first place?

They're unspoken because Haymitch doesn't exactly give him a chance to. He's already rounded on Peeta.

"And you! Stop acting so soft, boy, and act like a damned mentor. You want to get him out alive, letting him get away with his little temper tantrums isn't going to do the trick."

Gale's surprised at his own lack of satisfaction at seeing Haymitch chide Peeta.

He half expects him to cower and shrivel at Haymitch's words, but Peeta simply nods stoically. His pale blue eyes flicker over to Gale, and for a moment they're locked in a glance of sheer understanding.

Gale decides that if he wants a shot at seeing his family again, he's going to have to play by the Capitol's rules.

And Peeta decides that he's going to force him into doing it every step of the way- not for Gale, not for Katniss, not for anyone really. Just because it's what he's got to do.

* * *

With gentle hands, Cinna pulls Madge's hair back tightly, tying it into a sleek ponytail. "The focus will be on your face tonight, Madge." Cinna murmurs, before holding up a tinted contact lens. "Open your eyes wide for me."

Madge hesitates, trying to recall where she recognises the circular pieces of plastic from.

They're obviously not common in Twelve, but there's a lot of books in her house- and more often than not, Madge has a lot of time to kill.

"But they're…my vision is fine!" she pleads, craning her neck away at the foreign objects.

"Bear with me, Madge."

She obliges, blinking rapidly as the lenses are lodged in place on her eyes.

When she looks across to Katniss, Madge is slightly disconcerted by the girl's startled expression.

Cinna shows her to a mirror, and Madge can see why. The lenses darken her irises to a charcoal grey, and if she looks closely, she swears she can see flashes of red where the light hits them.

Her eyes are enticingly beautiful. Cruel. Strong.

Coupled with the dramatic makeup and tightly tied hair, Madge looks a far cry from the blonde-haired, blue eyed Mayor's daughter her prep team had doted on earlier.

"You were never planning on playing up my youth, were you?"

Cinna shakes his head.

* * *

Portia tries to explain the outfit to Gale, but he doesn't entirely grasp the concept of it.

Mainly because he doesn't try to.

All he knows is that the fabric is black and shiny and slippery against his skin, rippling material forming attire that, at least, covers the good majority of his body.

"Try not to move too much." she advises, instructing him to raise his arms above his head as she inspects the sizing of the shirt. "It'll ruin the effect. You'll understand once you're out there."

He's never felt more ridiculous in his life, standing and being dressed like one of Posy's dolls. They'd been a gift from Prim, who'd in turn retrieved them from the few belongings Mrs. Everdeen had from her childhood.

Somehow Katniss had been omitted entirely from that chain, probably by personal choice.

His eyes feel irritated from the intrusive lenses. Gale's been avoiding mirrors ever since he put them in. They make his grey eyes darker, unnervingly fiery and intimidating.

And even if part of Gale thinks it's pathetic that he's perturbed by his own reflection, the other part resents the fact that he looks so unrecognisable, and he hasn't been in the Capitol for a day yet.

Gale grits his teeth, and thinks about Haymitch's words and Posy's face and the gap between Vick's front teeth and his mother's arms.

* * *

Madge isn't on fire.

She's dark. Captivating, and enigmatic according to Cinna.

Effie praises Madge's ramrod straight posture, and has her take a few steps in her high-heeled boots to ensure she won't topple off of the chariot.

But Madge has good balance. Katniss points that out.

* * *

Gale doesn't recognise her, when he steps into the common area. Something dark has swallowed Madge up and replaced her with the dark-eyed, black-clad girl in front of him.

He gapes slightly, before Madge looks up at him.

He half expects her to narrow her eyes and bear her teeth, but her lips curl into the slightest hint of a smile.

It instantly breaks the façade.

Effie notices, and she strictly commands her to control her countenance. When she turns her back, Madge rolls her eyes and Gale can't help but to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

He's punished adequately when Effie turns on him and scorns him for smiling before starting on his posture.

It's not his fault that he slouches. He's been burdened all his life.

* * *

It's a blur of silence intermingled with voices until they're standing next to their chariot with minutes to go.

"Don't fall." Katniss offers with a surprisingly light-hearted smirk.

"Don't get distracted by your costumes." Cinna says firmly, and he's rewarded with incredulous expressions from both Madge and Gale. There doesn't appear to be anything distracting about the black material.

"Keep your heads high. Don't make eye contact with anyone. Especially not any of the other tributes." Haymitch growls.

Madge swallows at the thought of the twenty-two others. Pyrotechnics seem to be a recurring theme within their outfits. The jewels on District One's spit sparks. Intricate silver circuitry on Three's glows.

"Alright. Enough prolonging the inevitable. Up you go." Haymitch motions.

There are murmurs wishing them good luck from the others, but they both seem to be oblivious to them.

Gale hoists himself onto the chariot. It's not as easy for Madge, still a good head shorter than him even in her platform boots. He offers her a hand, pulling her light frame up with ease.

Madge, usually so graceful and light on her feet, stumbles a step, clutching onto Gale's should for support.

"You okay?" he mutters reassuringly, before realising he's still holding on to her hand. Gale drops it quickly. She doesn't seem to have noticed.

"Nerves." Madge replies confidently, because she's certain that's the reason and not the spark that shot through her when she took Gale's hand.

* * *

As the last to enter City Circle, Madge can hear the roars of the Capitol audience are already tumultuous. She braces herself as they begin to roll forward.

Nothing could prepare her for the thunderous screams. Calling out to her. Calling her name.

As she holds herself high, not daring to avert her gaze from straight ahead, flashes of red fill her vision.

The fabric of her clothing reflects the beaming lights of the Capitol buildings. Like the sun shining on the shimmering surface of a lake.

Except the lake is black, and the sun is burning a blazing red.

She's certainly not on fire, but she's alight. Glowing. Like an ember, born from ashes.

* * *

Gale can hear declarations of love from the audience for both him and Madge. He has little regard for them if they aren't promises of sponsorship.

He can hear his own heart pounding, rapidly from within his chest.

His clothes are alive with iridescent reflections of red and black. Gale realises that his eyes must look somewhat similar, blazing and dancing in the light.

Maybe his rage and disdain for the Capitol could be substituted for intimidation. Maybe, the odds could be in his favour.

* * *

Snow's speech fittingly sends ice running through Madge's veins, but it's evidently not enough detract from her glowing costume.

It's not his words. She hardly listens, anyway. It's just…him. Cold and austere and dominant.

The feeling swelling in the pit of her stomach reminds her of how she feels around Romulus Thread. Paltry and insignificant in comparison.

But she remains stony and expressionless, even as the chariots begin to roll away.

She's always been good at hiding behind her face anyway; and the cruel fire of her eyes paired with the mask of makeup makes it easier.

Her expression only shifts when one of the black horses pulling their chariot neighs raucously, and they suddenly halt. Pitched forward, Madge begins to panic until she feels strong arms locking around her waist, firmly steadying her.

* * *

Even if he's never seen a horse in his life, Gale knows a thing or two about animal behaviour.

He sees it happening before his eyes. The blinding, white flash of a camera. The twitch in the horse's eye, and a chain reaction of events that ensues.

With the footwork of a hunter, it's easy for Gale to steady himself. But he knows Madge could have all the balance in the world and not predict being lurched forward from their chariot.

Instinctively, he grabs Madge tightly before the unthinkable happens, ensuring she won't fall as the chariot begins to roll forward again.

All eyes are on him. Including Madge's, for a single bewildered moment that seems unfitting on her ruby-and-charcoal eyes. Gale drops his arms, and glances ahead. Madge follows suit.

The roars are deafening.

* * *

It seems oddly silent as they exit City Circle, especially considering the mentors have retired to their rooms to watch the chariot rides on flat screen televisions.

Madge dismounts without Gale's assistance this time. She has the foresight to yank her shoes off before leaping down.

"Thanks." she offers slowly, tucking an invisible strand of hair behind her ear. "For, um-"

"Don't mention it." Gale replies evenly, and Madge isn't quite sure how to read his vacant expression.

So she follows him to the elevator and reads the back of his head instead.

* * *

The stocky, muscled boy from District One is already waiting there, his thirty-something-year-old district partner not in sight. His sneer reminds Gale of the merchant kids he used to despise back in Twelve.

"Figures Twelve would be the ones to send along another pair of star crossed lovers." He spits mockingly.

"Figures a chubby guy from One like yourself would rather wait for the elevator than take a single flight of stairs." Gale shoots back dismissively.

One laughs derisively. "Did I strike a nerve? Tell you what." His eyes flash dangerously, an instant shift from an arrogant teenager to a cold-blood killer. "When I find you in the arena, I'll make sure to kill you both so we don't have a repeat of last year."

Gale's about to retort, but he freezes when he realises a direct threat was just made against his life; and done with an air of such nonchalance. His fists clench, and he's visualising slamming One up against the wall and getting into a fight that would somehow cultivate in the smug bastard tumbling down the elevator shaft.

There's a soft touch to his arm, and Gale looks down and sees Madge's hand. "Don't." she murmurs out of the corner of her mouth.

One's grin is now a triumphant jeer as he steps into the elevator, and Gale decides to let the door close and wait for it to come back down again.

It only has to ascend one story anyway.

* * *

"Not too shabby for a couple novices." Haymitch barks approvingly as they step into the Penthouse.

Effie gushes over their performance, before quickly descending into a rant about the lack of proper training the animals receive.

"Where're the others?" Madge asks casually, dropping her high-heeled boots on the floor as she notes the obvious lack of Katniss and Peeta in the conversation.

"Probably up in their nest." her mentor grumbles.

Madge raises an eyebrow, and darts a wary glance across to Gale, who doesn't seem to have noticed- that, or he's gotten remarkable adept at feigning interest in what Effie Trinker has to say.

"Now, you'll be woken bright and early tomorrow for some strategizing before you begin your training, so I suggest you both get a good night's sleep…"

Madge doesn't have to be asked twice. The prospect of scrubbing the makeup from her face and removing the contact lenses feels almost as good as her feet free of the heeled boots.

* * *

Gale is about to walk to his room, when Haymitch grunts suddenly- as though he can't be bothered to use his words to ask Gale to wait up for a moment.

"Nice show you put on tonight."

Gale raises an eyebrow, demanding further explanation. Haymitch doesn't give it to him.

"Better than letting her fall, right?"

Haymitch eyes him closely.

"It'd be better if _both _of you don't fall, actually." He continues upon catching sight of the vacancy in Gale's expression. "Don't play dumb with me, boy. You're not going to get a repeat of last year no matter how hard you try, so drop the act."

"What?" Gale manages to choke out, trying to get an understanding of the implication behind Haymitch's words.

Haymitch has already dismissed him- or, rather, swept out of the room himself.

Gale tries to piece together Haymitch's comments of 'reminiscing about strawberry season' with the pseudo-conversation they've just had, but he can't help but to think that something is missing.

And he's not sure why he's suddenly desperate to find out.

* * *

**a/n: **TBC. Haymitch's behaviour is based on the lines "she must have quite a taste for them." So keep that in mind! :-)


End file.
